Lights In The Sky are Holes in The Floor
by Eligrl77
Summary: Post Reichenbach. Sherlock meets his death and goes to heaven. The title comes from a quote that says "This is a place where grandmothers hold babies on their laps under the stars and whisper in their ears that the lights in the sky are holes in the floor of heaven."
1. Chapter 1

"Goodbye, John," as Sherlock stood looking down on John. His tears were rushing down his cheeks.  
"No. Don't," John almost whispered to him on the phone.  
Sherlock gazed down at him for the last time, and then he lowered his arm and dropped the phone onto the roof. He out stretched his arms and fell towards the concrete earth below. John lowered his own phone and screamed his name. He felt the world go into slow motion and turn black. There was a long black silence. It was a peaceful stillness. He felt no pain.

As a boy, Sherlock had wondered where his father had gone. So devastated by his mother's adultery, he drowned himself with rocks in his pockets. Almost everyone left on earth to blame themselves for what happened. His memorial service wasn't even attended by his mother. She was too distracted with her boyfriend at the time probably. An event that left the Holmes boys full of sadness, anger, and bitterness that haunted them into adulthood. Sherlock would have given anything to hear his father's voice in uni. The dark times strung out on drugs and completely alone. His father treated him with the love and respect few ever gave him.

Light slowly began to appear and completely shined out the darkness. Blue skies surrounded him in every direction. Sherlock was completely disoriented by this. He was supposed to have_ lived_ through the fall. He realized this terrible realization as he looked more around him. He was nowhere he was before. He wanted to cry, but his body wouldn't comply. He was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing before.

"John, where am I? What's going on?" he talked in a daze. The clouds slowly drifted away in front of him. The shiniest golden gate he ever seen. There stood in front an older gentleman, with a long robe and white beard. He had a very heavy, old binding book and was writing down something in one of the pages. He then glanced up at him with a smile.

"Welcome Sherlock William Holmes. We've been expecting your arrival," the man continued to smile. "They call me Saint Peter, but you can call me Peter. I only use that other name for formalities sake."

"Alright Peter… where am I?" Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"Well obviously you aren't at St Bartholomew's Hospital. In fact, as I was last told by my boss you are currently having your funeral. Gosh, you sure look like the copy of Holmes senior.-"

"Shouldn't I be in hell? I killed myself!" Sherlock was pacing around the fluffy clouds in a huff. His mind was not grasping any of this well. He wanted so bad to be angry, but something was stopping that.

"What you did, was not suicide. You died so others would be able to survive. You are what others would call a martyr. It gets you immediate automatic access up here. Plus you had quite an impressive record of helping others."

"You said something about Holmes senior… my dad. Is he here?" Sherlock quietly asked.

"Of course he is. He was quite a piece of work when he came up here. You will get to see all kinds of folks up here. Let me unlock the gate for you here and show you around," he smiled as the gate unlocked with the melody of amazing grace. The gates opening were like the sound of an earthquake. After they made it through the gate it was an endless meadow. The ground was full of trees, beaches, oceans, deserts, mountains, all in the same place. A rainbow stayed brightly in the sky. Flowers of all kinds surrounded them. Sherlock was lost in thought and amazement till he thought he heard a long echo coming from the rolling hill. It was the sound of a familiar voice calling his name over and over.

Sherlock froze in realization. This was the sound of his father.


	2. Chapter 2

"Don't be scared," St. Peter reassured him. "He's been waiting a long time to see you. There are others up there as well," he patted his shoulder. Sherlock ran toward the sound running through the fields of sweet smelling lilacs, gardenias, and poppies. Everything was so overwhelming in joy. He wasn't even out of breath by the time he saw his father. He looked just as he was when he was a boy. In a three piece suit, slicked back black hair just as Sherlock remembered him as a child. Other people surrounded him, but they didn't matter at that moment.

The two embraced for what seemed like an eternity. It took Sherlock a while to get himself together before he could even speak again.

"Mycroft and I missed you so much daddy," he hugged him as tightly as he could, talking to him just like he was six years old again. "Why, why did you choose to end your life the way he did? I always wanted to know and now I am here." His father caressed his hair and his face for a long moment before answering him.

"You know how much I loved your mother. I loved being a father to you both. I can now tell you I was haste in my action. I paid for it dearly, not being able to be with you both physically. I was tried being there for you Sherlock. You tried almost every stupid way to die and I stopped it. I… couldn't stop you coming this time though. Orders," he pointed his index finger upward. He broke into another smile. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

"Who are all of these people?" Sherlock asked, looking around finally at their faces.

"These people Sherlock you helped in your lifetime. They all wanted to come and thank you themselves. They feel they owe much debt to you. Come and greet them," his father gestured to them as they crowded around Sherlock.

He was never much of a people person in life, but in death the physicality didn't seem to matter much. He was almost appreciative of their kindness towards him. Countless people hugged and kissed his cheek. Some of them were children and had given him flowers. There had to have been at least a hundred of them.

_"Shame Sally didn't get to see this," _he chuckled in his mind. He sure didn't feel like the freak he was treated on earth.

"Now Sherlock," his dad spoke again and the crowd parted. "There are three special people I want you to meet... again." He gestured for Sherlock's hand and he gladly took it. The crowd disappeared in sight as they walked through a bit more of the mountainside. He never felt tired, even though he thought they've walked at least five miles. His eyes widened as he realized what his father was leading him to. This was the house of many rooms he vaguely remembered being described to him from his Sunday school classes. In his past life, he would have rolled his eyes at the extravagance. He could not stop staring in awe.

"It's got 103 rooms. Some of our family lives here, and ancestors we never met in our lifetimes. The people I was telling you about earlier live here also," he opened the door. Marble white floors and granite rock stairs with black railings. The Holmes family emblem, a lion raging in red, covered in a deep blue and yellow decorated the center.

"Do you remember a girl you went to Uni with named Violet Fisher?" his father asked. Sherlock had to think for a second. Why would his dad be asking about her?

"We dated during my third year. I was on drugs a lot of that time," he shrugged. "I didn't treat her well. I never knew what happened to her."

"Looks like I will be the one filling you in," they got onto a golden elevator. They went up five floors very slowly before the little ding sounded, and the doors opened. They were met with two white doors. His father blocked them as he continued speaking.

"Not long after you broke it off with her… she was in a fatal accident. She still loved you Sherlock, despite your flaws. She was carrying your two little children inside of her at the time," he paused to see his son's pained expression.

"I… was going to be a father?" he gasped. He felt slightly dizzy hearing this news.

"Yes and she was going to tell you. Obviously she never got the chance. They have stayed babies till you came home. Violet is playing with them in the play room behind these doors. Go to her Sherlock," as his father opened the double doors.


	3. Chapter 3

The ceiling, walls, and curtains were covered in green and white stripes. Little building blocks sat around the center of the room. His Violet of long ago was reading Corduroy in that soft voice he still remembered. The Violet that he knew long brown hair, pale skin, hazel eyes, wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. She was sitting on a white sofa holding one of his children. His other one had fallen asleep in a play area nearby. A little Raggedy Ann sat in a corner. Violet was immersed in the story, not yet noticing other people were here.

"Violet," his dad called to her. "Sherlock is here." They finally looked at each other in wonderment. Violet took her little boy into her arms and walked toward Sherlock. It was a tense few moments.

"Would you like to hold him...? I named him Oliver," she nervously smiled as she slowly put little Oliver into his arms. He looked at least 10 months old. He had black hair like his dad and had his glowing green eyes. He was in a flannel blue onesie, sucking on his pacifier. Oliver instantly made cooing noises and shook his little feet in joy. Sherlock held him close and kissed his tiny forehead. He slowly handed Oliver back to Violet.

"I need to put Oliver in his crib. I am sure your dad can introduce to you to Madeline as well I could," she smiled as she carried him to the next room where his crib was. Sherlock walked slowly to where his daughter was. She was sleeping peacefully in her play area, covered in little flowers. Carefully he took her into his arms, swaying her quietly back and forth. She definitely inherited his pale skin and eyes. The rest of her looked like her mother with pixie dark brown hair. She was dressed in a white dress, with sandals to match. He too kissed her tiny forehead as Violet also took her to the next room. The soothing sounds of "Jesus loves me" echoed their room as she silently closed it.

"I'm going to let you guys talk," Sherlock's dad said as he hastened out of the room, leaving Violet to pick up the toys lying around.

"Sorry for the mess," she spoke.

"When did you find out?" he asked.

"It was during finals week. I thought you didn't love me. You loved the drugs so much more. I had gone to a campus crusade event and gave my life to Jesus. I would've had them anyway, regardless. If it wasn't for the stupid truck that hit me," she sighed.

"I am so, so, sorry Violet," said Sherlock as he took her hands and kissed them.

"I forgave you a long time ago. I prayed for you the day before I died at my bible study. I didn't quite expect how it would all tie in. I know you moved on with your life. You fell in love with John Watson and you came to figure out who you were. We were all trying to figure out who we were when we knew each other. Just kids really," she smirked. "Your room is two doors down from me. You are always more, more than welcome to come and visit me and the kids. I cared about you for a lot of my physical life. I still carry that in my heart," she kissed his hands in return. She got up from the couch and wrapped her arms around him, like it was old times again.

"I was so selfish Violet," he held her tightly and lowered his head on her shoulder. He stayed that way for a while with her, hearing the soft echoes of Brahms lullaby from the children's room.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mary, where am I? What's going on?" he talked in a daze. The clouds slowly drifted away in front of him. The shiniest golden gate he ever seen. There stood in front an older gentleman, with a long robe and white beard. He had a very heavy, old binding book and was writing down something in one of the pages. He then glanced up at him with a smile.

"Why isn't it John Hamish Watson? Good to see you," he smiled. "Someone I know has been excepting you for a _very_ long time."


End file.
